Harlequin Nocturne September 2014 Bundle: Beyond the Moon\Immortal Obsession (9 page)

“That is a strange coincidence.”

Verity stepped back until her shoulders hit the wall opposite where Rook leaned. Her body slumped and she looked aside at the moonlight glinting in the glass on the front door.

That she could be so connected to this man through another was remarkable. And that so many coincidences had occurred was not haphazard—or coincidence. Nothing in life was coincidence. She believed that with all her heart. Everything happened for a reason. Like finding a man's buried soul. And getting bitten by a vampire who worked for the very vampire she had dumped months earlier.

“How do you know Slater, Verity?” He stood up from leaning against the wall, losing the sensual looseness that her body so desperately craved and assuming a stern demeanor. The hunter emerged, serious and ready for action. “Do you have information that could lead me to him? If so, it would be a hell of a lot easier than trying to track him through the nameless vamp who bit you.”

“Slater, uh…we dated for a while. Not long. Well, longer than I usually allow…”

The man's brows dove together, and his jaw pulsed. He didn't like that statement. But she wasn't as offended by vampires as most hunters would be.

“Vail mentioned as much,” he said.

“He—you already knew? So why this angle of questioning?”

“I wanted to see if you would admit to it.”

Pissed that he would use such tactics on her, Verity slapped her arms across her chest. He was definitely all hunter now. And he had no right to the details from any of her former romances.

However, his investigation had become inexplicably entangled in her life. And she had no right to conceal information that could aid his work.

With a sigh, she confessed. “It didn't work out. I generally only date guys three times, though we did stretch it a bit further. I realized he was grooming me to steal my magic, so I broke it off with him. He's an asshole, though, and I expected retaliation. He stalked me for a few months, but I'd thought I'd lost him when I moved a few months ago.”

“You had to
move
to get away from him?”

She winced and said softly, “Yes.”

Rook fisted the wall beside her head. “That vampire is one of the most dangerous in the city right now. You should have told me you knew him!”

Setting back her shoulders, she lifted her chin. “My dating history is no concern to you.”

“Verity.” He huffed.

“I'm sorry!” Her confident posture softened. “I hadn't a clue it was important to you. I thought you were after the one who bit me.”

“I told you I was investigating the whole tribe. Hell, Verity, do you think Slater sent those vamps after you?”

“I don't know. It's possible. But they weren't following me that night. I was walking home and turned a corner, and there they were.”

“Doesn't mean they didn't plan it to go down that way. Damn it!” He shoved a hand over his head, rubbing at the back of his neck as he paced before her. “Did Slater ever bite you?”

“No! Never. Not that it's any of your business.”

He smirked. Nodded once. “Just wanted to know if you were a fang junkie.”

“A fang—how dare you?”

He put up a hand to stop an angry protest. Really? Talk to the hand?

Verity marched down the hallway, away from him. “Get out!”

“Verity, don't be angry. I—hell, I slipped into hunter mode. It's what I am more often than just a man or friend or even lover. I needed to know if you had been hurt by him—or bitten.”

“Yes, well, I have been bitten, no thanks to you!” She turned on him, stopping him in his tracks only a few feet from her. “If you would have done your job the other night, this would have never happened!”

She slapped her neck but then realized the angry reaction was not like her. She did not rage at others for her own misfortunes. And she could handle this by herself, thank you very much. And she had. The spell to stop the vampire taint had worked. End of story.

“I think you should leave now,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice but failing. “There's nothing more to say. I don't know where you can find Slater.”

“You must know where he lives if you dated.” He scratched his head. “Only three times?”

That tidbit had just flown out. She shouldn't have told him that.

“I'm not in the mood for an interrogation, Rook.”

“Please, I…I'm sorry. You're right. This was supposed to be romance and kisses, and now…” He blew out a breath and again raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

He was doing his job, Verity reminded herself. And if he didn't investigate all the angles, he'd never get his man or the tribe.

Hell, she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to resume the romance and kisses, and…was it too late to try for the sensual mood that had ignited sparks between them?

Maybe if she gave him something, anything, to appease the hunter, he could set work aside for the rest of the night.

“The last time I saw him, he lived on a barge,” she offered.

“On the Seine?”

She nodded. “But he'd put it up for sale right after the breakup. I'm sure it's sold. You could check, though. Maybe trace the sale if he's no longer there. He lived southwest, past the sixteenth.”

“Thank you. That could help my investigation.”

He stroked her hair, which was wavy from the braids she'd taken out after the show. She wanted the intimacy right now. Yet she did not. She wasn't sure what she wanted. Trust? He'd muddled any burgeoning feelings of trust she'd felt toward him tonight.

“I'll go,” he said, “but I don't want to leave you angry, Verity. Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I want to keep you safe.”

“I am safe. I have wards against vampires on this home. Werewolves also. Perhaps I should put up a ward against demons?”

Rook heaved out a sigh. “Fine. I guess I was wrong about you. I should get back out there on the hunt. Wasted enough time already on…”

He didn't finish the sentence, but she filled in the last part herself. He'd wasted his time on her. Because he'd been wrong about her?

Turning away from him, Verity listened to his boots tromp the floor toward the door. It opened and closed. And she raced up the stairs to the bedroom where she grabbed her great-grandmother's quilt, wrapped it around her shoulders and pressed a palm to the window to watch the hunter's retreat into the night. The quilt hugged her, but she took no comfort in the memory of the women who had come before her tonight.

She was alone in this world. And she didn't want to be alone anymore.

* * *

The argument with Verity had served to clear his brain. What the hell had he been thinking to get involved with her when right now he needed to focus on tracking Slater and taking out the longtooth? There was no room for error, no time for extracurricular activities. An Order knight must give all to the cause.

Live to serve. Serve until death. Die fighting.

That was the vow he and all knights lived by. And he took his vows seriously. It had been he and King who had penned those very words.

Rook had served the Order for four centuries. He could mark countless thousands of vampire kills to his stake. He'd witnessed evils no man should ever have to relive in his nightmares. Now was no time to go soft and start chasing some woman's frilly skirts because he was horny and she had a soft, kissable mouth. And even softer hair that he liked to tangle his fingers into.

Punching a fist into his opposite palm, Rook marched down the sidewalk toward the Metro station.

Three times was all she was willing to give a guy? How many times had he seen her now? Twice? The time in the café didn't really count. Maybe. Hell, had he used up all his chances already? So did that mean she didn't date?

Apparently she'd dated the vampire Frederick Slater. And the asshole must have warranted more than the standard three-date maximum.

The idea of Verity kissing a vampire put a bad taste in Rook's mouth. Though he shouldn't hold her past against her. He'd certainly had his share of questionable flings. A man can't always be particular when he's spent centuries on the prowl. Nor had he a bias to breed, save werewolves. He kept his distance from them, mainly because the males fiercely protected their females with claws that could slice a man in half.

It is not her familiarity with a vampire that troubles you. It is her fire.

“Shut up, Oz.”

You need her to find your soul, and you know it. I will be damned if I am going to let you pout and stomp your boots because the woman had a life before she met you.

“You're pushing it, Oz.”

And why is that?

“I can find my soul without Verity's help!”

Fine job you have done of it thus far. The witch can identify the vamp who stole your soul. You need her. Do not fuck it up.

Ignoring Oz's rant, Rook paused at the corner of a utility building and pressed his spine against the sharp brickwork. When was the full moon? He wanted to let the demon out to work off some of his steam. Less than a week, if he judged the shape of the waxing moon correctly.

Spinning the stake at his side, he sharpened his focus and stared down the street, seeing nothing yet feeling the city crush up around him. So much in Paris had changed over the centuries. The pace was faster, the air dimmer, the people more varied and the noise constant. Tourists wandered every nook, street and sidewalk. Yet very much, such as the buildings, the streets and the river, hell, even life and the ever-present hum of humanity, remained the same.

Much like him?

Oz was right. It wasn't the vampire ex-boyfriend who poked at his ire. Verity's performance with the fire had stirred up memories of Marianne. He had loved her like he had never loved another person. She had been his world.

And he had destroyed her.

Setting his jaw, Rook struggled to pull away from the memories that wanted to tear out his heart, a heart he'd only managed to bandage and hold together over the years because he did not have a soul to fill it with the emotion and compassion upon which most humans thrived. But had it ever completely healed?

Did he deserve another chance at such bold and blissful love?

Did he want it?

Why was he asking himself such questions? This
thing
with Verity was a flirtation. A tango of lust and desire. And Oz was right. He needed her knowledge to do his job.

Hell. Truth? He wanted Verity. For reasons beyond what she could do for him and the Order. He wanted to sink his fingers into her long hair and pull it over his face, to lose himself in the violet darkness and find a place next to her body. To slip inside her mouth and indulge her taste, her heat, her whimpers of desire.

He simply wanted Verity Von Velde.

Slamming a fist against the brick, he pushed off from the wall and marched back in the direction from which he'd come.

Twenty minutes later, he knocked on Verity's door.

When the witch opened the door and her royal blue eyes flashed wide, Rook took her head in his hands and kissed her soundly. She didn't resist, but she didn't quite succumb as compliantly as he desired. In fact, she was the one to break the kiss.

“Really?” she asked, her tone still tight from their argument.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I'm not leaving this anger hanging between us. Tonight we're going to learn things about one another we may not want to know. But damn it, we're both going to enjoy the ride.”

And he tugged her hand and walked toward the stairs because he guessed her bedroom was up the stairway at the end of the hall.

Chapter 7

V
erity knew exactly what the hunter had in mind as he strolled past her bed, then over to her spell area. He glanced across the table scattered with spell accoutrements but didn't linger in curiosity.

She was still angry with him. And she was not. He'd accused her of being a fang junkie. Sort of. Kind of? Okay, so he'd had to ask. Their argument had been stupid. He had no right to get upset over any man she had dated. Yet she could understand a hunter having trouble with her having dated a vampire.

So what next? Did he seriously think he could march into her house and toss her across the bed and ravage her?

Sounded…not awful.

She teased a strand of hair across her lips, eyeing the handsome man who paced before her spell table. He wore Order gear, from the sleek black leather coat with a bladed collar to the steel-toed boots. He was some kind of knight in black armor. And she wanted a peek beneath that armor. Hell, she wanted to see the man exposed, skin bared and muscles flexing.

“Why me?” she asked.

Rook tilted his head and smiled at her. It was a smoldering, knowing grin that delved beneath her clothing and tickled her skin. She warmed to his catty tease and straightened her shoulders, awaiting an answer.

“You want me to answer that?” he asked. “If I do, then you have to take off those boots.”

She looked down over her thigh-highs. “You planning to do strip twenty questions?”

“Sounds like a good way to get to know each other better.”

Oh, that sexy smirk! In her mind Verity was already peeling the zippers down her boots and kicking them off. But only if he reciprocated.

“Okay. But I don't think I'm wearing twenty things.”

“We'll stop when you want to stop. Agreed?”

That sounded like an adventure she was willing to take. “Fair enough.”

“The blanket doesn't count,” he added.

She tossed the quilt to the bed and asked again, “So why me?”

Shoving his thumbs in his front pockets, Rook wandered toward her but stopped between the bed and where she stood at the top of the stairs. Moonlight beaming through the windows twinkled in the crystals that hung like raindrops frozen mid-fall above their heads. The pale light also glinted in his hair and eyes, a wicked challenge.

“I didn't choose you,” he said. “Some kind of weird destiny brought us together. But I liked you the moment I laid my hand on you.”

“Of course, you
were
copping a feel.”

He raised an admonishing finger. “You're not allowed to protest the answer. I answered your question. Now, off with the boots.”

“If this is going by the officially sanctioned strip twenty questions rules, then it's only one item at a time.” Not that she was aware there
were
any official rules, but it sounded good to her.

Verity bent and unzipped her left boot and toed it off. She stood on her other boot, balancing on tiptoes with her stockinged foot. “There.”

“Fair enough. My turn to ask the question.”

“This is going to be good. Oh, but so you know, the official rules of the game also states that all weapons are counted as one item.”

He mocked a shocked look, then swiped away the look with a rub of his hand. Behind his fake alarm a smile emerged. “If the lady insists.”

“Just game rules. You understand.”

“Of course. It's a good thing one of us is up on things like rules on intimate games. My question, then. Why would you date a vampire if you had no intention of letting him bite you?”

So he couldn't let that one go, eh? Verity considered calling the game to an end. But no. If he wanted to play dirty by going straight for the personal stuff, she could go there too.

“I was attracted to the man, not the fangs. He was—and is—a smart man. I like intelligence.”

She wasn't about to mention that intelligence was also tinged with malice, something she hadn't clearly understood until they'd gone weeks into the relationship. That's what happened when she broke her three-date rule. Nothing good.

Rook's jaw pulsed, but he nodded subtly, accepting her answer. That muscle at the back of his jaw was his tell.

“Off with the weapons,” she said.

He spread his coat open to reveal the inner lining, crowded with assorted weapons. Pulling out a stake, he stepped back and set it on her spell table. Another stake and two more from loops inside the coat. At his back, he pulled out a curved blade, and from the top of his left boot emerged a stiletto. Hooked at his hip was a garrote, which he pulled out to display to her, eyebrow lifted gleefully, before setting it aside. A hand-sized crossbow also had been fitted inside the coat.

When he finally displayed a syringe, capped with a steel tip, Verity had to ask, “What's that?”

“Is that one of your questions? If so, you'll have to remove something since you deem to ask out of order.”

She sighed. “I suppose.”

He smiled widely and set the syringe on the table. “Holy water. Works on unbaptized vamps. The other boot, if you please.”

That had been a wasted question, but Verity didn't mind at all as she unzipped and toed off the other boot. She wandered closer to the man who had revealed an arsenal to her as if it were nothing more than jewelry adorning his body. So many dangerous items sat upon her spell table. A sacred place that she hoped wouldn't draw out the bad vibes that surely existed within the weapons. He had laid them there with playful and good intention, so she wouldn't worry.

“What's with the cat?” Rook asked next.

On to the questions. “Thomas? Oh, he's a good friend. He's a familiar.”

“You mentioned that.”

“He stops in once or twice a week for food and sometimes a chat. He's quite the lady's man.”

“Has he ever been your man?”

“That's two questions.”

“I'll remove two things.”

Running her tongue across her lips, Verity nodded her agreement. “Coat.”

He shrugged off the long leather duster, folding it inward to ensure the bladed collar was concealed, and tossed it over the weapons on the table.

“And…” she prompted.

“Answer the question first.”

“Me and Thomas ever get it on?” She shook her head. “Strictly platonic between us. There's something about shapeshifters that does not appeal to me. Boots.”

The man bent to unbuckle the straps about the ankle of one boot and heeled it off. He stood there in one boot and waited for her to insist he remove the other.

She could play fair. Though it killed her that this was going so slowly. What did she want to know about the man that she dared ask? Favorite color or car? She didn't care. Favorite sexual position? Oh, baby.

“Do you often play such games with women with the intended outcome resulting in nudity?”

“Not often.” His tone teased that she should have asked exactly what sort of games he did enjoy.

Rats. She should have worded that one differently.

“Stockings.”

Verity took her time rolling down the black sheer thigh-high stocking, bending and giving the man a side view as she pulled it from her toes and tossed the sheer slip to the end of the bed. “Happy?”

“Immensely. And that was another question. The other stocking, if you please.”

Shoot. She had slipped. And she was rapidly losing her clothing, whereas he had a lot to go. Verity slipped off the second stocking with as much élan as the first, and this time she didn't ask about his emotional state.

“What's your favorite way to spend time with a man on a date?”

Now that was a good one. And she appreciated that he was attempting to learn how to please her.

Verity tapped a finger to her lips as she considered for a moment. She'd gone on many dates over the decades. Some wonderful, some worthy of Alka-Seltzer and a rewind. Others, well, having to pack up her belongings and physically relocate to get away from Slater topped her list of worst relationships ever. But Rook was only wondering about the good stuff.

“Any kind of interaction that involves paying attention to one another,” she said. “I like it when a man shows me that it is me he's interested in. If you whip out your cell phone and start texting at any time when we're together, then forget it. The other boot.”

“I don't do the cell phone thing,” he said, “save to check in for work.” He removed the remaining boot.

Damn it, he was wearing socks. He also had the vest, shirt and pants remaining. Whether or not he was wearing Skivvies beneath the pants, she was now determined to find out.

Gripping the hem of her dress, Verity tiptoed across the gray-painted floorboards in front of the bed, sat and leaned back to study the handsome image of calm, sex and slayage.

“How often do you have sex when you're dating a woman?” She had to know. He looked like a man who needed it often. Certainly he would have no difficulty fulfilling that need, either.

“As often as she desires me,” he replied.

Oh mercy. That left the interpretation wide open. Verity instantly narrowed it to
every day
.

“Dress,” he said on a husky tone that brushed her skin indelibly.

Verity stood and, fingering the dress hem, decided she was all in. This night could end only one way, and she wasn't about to lose the game. Curling her fingers one by one under the hem, she tugged it up slowly, gliding her hands along her thighs and over her hips to reveal her black lace panties. Rook's intake of breath delighted her. Up a few inches higher, and she exposed her stomach. She could feel the heat of his gaze follow the skim of the fabric as she pulled it to the bottom of her matching lace bra.

The man's hands opened and closed near his thighs, anticipation drawing down his head so he watched her from an expectant downcast stare.

Finally pulling the dress off, she tossed it aside without a care, swished her hair over her shoulders, turned to the side and glanced coyly at him from over her shoulder.

“Gorgeous,” he said. “Would you make love with me, Verity?”

“Is that one of the questions?”

“It is.”

“I, uh…” A bold question. He should know the answer. Yet if he did not, and she daren't speak it, then she'd never get another item of clothing off him. “Yes,” she whispered.

Her heartbeats thundered and she smiled, growing into the answer as quickly as the titillation of revealing her desires stretched through her body. Nipples hardening, she remained facing sideways to him, unwilling to give him the full tease just yet.

“Socks,” she said, then when he only removed one, she added, “I believe the official rules state that socks always come in pairs. Unlike a woman's hosiery or shoes. It's sort of universal that one must do them together.”

He gave her a doubtful quirk of brow but then bent to strip off the other sock. And Verity exhaled quietly, stunned he'd allowed her that silly made-up rule.

What to ask him next? She desperately wanted to know about the witch he'd seen burned to ash, but she didn't want to take this teasing moment in that direction. So instead, she approached him, taking note that his eyes traced her breasts. Such regard made her nipples tighten even more. She basked in his admiration.

“What part of me would you like to touch first?” she asked.

“Your breasts,” he breathed out quickly. “I want to touch them with my tongue and squeeze them against my palms. Then I will suckle them until you moan and squirm against me.”

Verity blew out a breath and stepped back from him. If she stood too close, she'd touch him, and that would bring the game to an end she didn't want to see happen yet. She had to keep her wits about her and not fall to her knees like some silly wanton.

“Vest,” she directed.

The man unsnapped the tight-fitted vest and dropped it to the floor, where it hit with a startling thud.

“That thing must be heavy. What's it made of—wait!” She thrust out a hand. “Nix that question.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “I have better things to ask.”

“It's lined with Kevlar,” he offered freely. “Comes in handy if I encounter a werewolf with claws out.”

“You fight werewolves often?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and Verity realized she'd used another question. “Yes, let that be an official question,” she decided. “I didn't think the Order slayed wolves.”

“We don't, but sometimes a pack gets out of hand. It's not unlikely to encounter a wolf while out hunting a vampire. I have to protect myself, no matter the circumstances. And no, I've not slain a werewolf. Yet.”

She sensed his desire to do so was strong. Hmm…

With an accepting nod, she waited for his next request. Either one would reveal so much, yet she was ready to expose herself to this man. To take in his gaze and feel it glide across her skin as if it were the fire with which she so often danced.

“Bra,” he said in that sex-laced tone that she could feel drip across her body.
“S'il vou plaît.”

Verity turned and walked toward the paned glass cathedral window on the other side of her bed. It was shaped like something you'd find in a church but without the colored glass. Slipping her hand behind her back, she unclasped the bra with a smart twist. She let the lace bra fall from her arms and tilted back her head, loving the feel of her hair across her back. Skyclad was always her preferred attire.

Air, skin, breath, vita
. She thought the words to a reawakening spell. She whispered it often as a means to lift her spirits and bolster her vitality. Right now, she felt desire simmer across her skin, and her pores sought touch.

Putting her hands down at her sides, she turned to face Rook, knowing the moonlight spilled across her skin and flashes from the crystals danced in her hair.

The man bit his lip and gripped a fist before him. But he didn't look ready to punch someone; rather, he was trying to keep from touching.